


Happily Ever After

by dirrrtydeeds



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirrrtydeeds/pseuds/dirrrtydeeds
Summary: It's not exactly a typical fairy tale, but it'syourfairy tale, and you wouldn't have it any other way.





	Happily Ever After

You weren’t the type of girl to have tons of friends. Even when you were at that age that kids seemed to make friends with every other kid they saw, you didn’t have anyone. Hell, you barely were talking to your parents. Not that they cared - but that was a pity party to be saved for a later date. 

When you hit elementary school, specifically the second grade, that’s when your life changed. That’s when you met Jon Moxley. 

He was a irritable little shit, and you were the quiet one, meaning both of you were the class freaks, because second graders could be mean. And, somehow, someway, the two of you found your way to each other. You could never remember how you became friends: Mox claimed that he was a hero and pushed another little second grader that shoved you, but your fuzzy memory suggested it was something more like the other way around. 

Not that it really mattered how. All that really mattered was that you and Mox were thicker than thieves faster than anyone could blink. He helped you break out of your shell a bit, and you helped him by being his partner in crime. You were a great team, feared by students and administration alike. 

The two of you stuck together like peanut butter and jelly all throughout elementary and middle school, but things started to change a bit your Freshman year of high school. You stopped thinking his nappy ass hair needed a good trim, stopped thinking the hoodie he wore every day was dumb, and started thinking about the way his eyes always held the promise that there was going to be shit going down. 

To make a long story short: you started falling for your best, and only friend. 

You suspected he knew, too. Nobody knew you like Jon Moxley did. He never said anything, though, which was both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, when he looked at you, you could see something else in his baby blues. Something that could mean that maybe you weren’t the only one who had feelings. 

But, every time you thought that maybe, just _maybe,_ something could happen here, nothing ever did. A close hug that lasted a little too long to be considered friendly ended with Mox playfully punching your shoulder and calling you a dweeb. You falling asleep on his chest, curled up close to him on the nights where he’d come over to keep you company when your parents would be gone for days, or even weeks at a time, would end with you telling him that he was too bony and not very comfortable. Mox showing up at your house at three in the morning, battered, bruised, crying and refusing to tell you why ended in him saying that he was the toughest motherfucker around and saying he didn’t know why he went to go see you in the first place.

And then, everything changed, and yet didn’t all at once, when Mox hit seventeen and starting working under the table for some local underground wrestling scene. 

You were nothing but supportive as his best friend. Yeah, of course you were worried about him, but you could see how good it made him feel, being surrounded by all of that. That was where he was meant to be. Well, obviously not _there_ for the rest of his life. You had bigger plans for Jon Moxley, plans like WWE, even if he didn’t think he’d ever be there. You knew he would. 

And you were right. There were just a few speed bumps along the way. 

Or, really… namely just one. And that was that you hadn’t spoken a word to Mox since the day he turned eighteen years old and left abruptly to begin his wrestling career. And really, was that a speed bump for him? Part of you selfishly wished it was. You wished it hurt him as much as it ate you alive. You wanted it to keep his ass up at night. 

But, at the same time… You hoped more than anything that he was doing better now. You kept an eye on him, of course, so you knew he was getting better and better and better. You knew he was the best there was in the whole world, even if he was kind of… well, obnoxious. With all the girls, the drinking, the drugs, the death matches. You wondered, deep down, if this was always the Jon Moxley you knew, but you had just been blind the whole time, looking at him with rose tinted glasses. 

You didn’t think too long on that, though. Or, rather, you tried not to think about it at all. If Mox didn’t want you to be in his life, you wouldn’t push it, even if you really wanted to. So, you lived your life. You moved away, all the way across the country. Daily google searches of his name turned into weekly, then monthly, then yearly. 

You met someone new. He was nice. Treated you well enough, supported you, helped you forget. He was a good friend to you. And then, eventually, he was a good boyfriend. In retrospect, you don’t know why you agreed to go on a date with him, let alone several. You didn’t have any feelings for him. You liked the attention he gave you, and he was comfortable, but there was just… nothing there. 

You remembered then more than ever the day-to-day excitement of being friends with Jon Moxley. There was always something new, something fun, and something worth getting up for. Your boyfriend, as sweet as he was, was kind of, well… Vanilla. He had a routine for every single day, and rarely went outside of his routine. Which, you supposed wasn’t bad. Sometimes, it was kind of nice knowing what was going to come, rather than wondering if Mox was going to drag you into something that could get the both of you arrested. 

So, you stayed with him. He was normalcy, he was stability, and he wasn’t a bad man. That was all you needed, in the long run. Right? You sure as fuck hoped so.

You especially hoped so when he proposed and you said yes. You hoped that he would be enough for forever. No, you knew it would be. You _knew._ You had to. There wasn’t really room for ‘maybe’ in a marriage. 

And that’s what you kept telling yourself over your year long engagement, up until today, your wedding day. You stood silently, staring at yourself in the mirror while your bridesmaids (your fiance’s sisters) fixed your hair to make you look picture perfect. 

You never really thought you were that beautiful, though, you supposed, what woman did? Even today, you just looked okay. Your dress was gorgeous, but you didn’t really care too much about it. You had a long veil that was going to cover your face, which brought you back to when you and Mox were watching Say Yes To the Dress and he was bitching about veils. 

_“What is even the fuckin’ point?”_ He had asked, tossing more popcorn in his mouth, still avidly pretending like he didn’t like the show. 

_“I don’t have all the answers, asshole. How am I supposed to know?”_ You had giggled back, throwing a popcorn kernel at his face, which he promptly ignored. 

_“I just think that it’s stupid. Like, I could give less of a shit about weddings and this show in general, but like. Don’t you_ _**want**_ _to see your bride’s face? You really want her to be covered up when you’re about to marry her? It’s bullshit.”_ Mox ranted, mimicking your earlier actions and tossing a popcorn kernel at the tv with a scowl. _“Whatever, Sandra. Your mom’s a cunt and your husband’s a boring stiff anyway.”_

You had ended up laughing so hard you fell off the couch that day. A small smile played at your painted on lips, for the first time that day, making your bridesmaids titter in excitement. 

“There we go! Thought you were getting cold feet.” One of them - Jessica? Janessa? Was it bad that you didn’t know their names? - said. Cold feet? 

“What do you mean?” You asked, your voice a little hollow. 

“Well, I mean, not to be _rude,”_ Another one started rudely, reminding you again of Dean making fun of snobby bitches who said that kind of shit, “But you haven’t, like, smiled all day. It’s kinda making pictures a pain in the ass, hon.” 

“Sorry.” You said automatically, and without really any feeling in the slightest. 

_“You gotta stop apologizing for everythin’.”_ A fifteen year old Mox ranted one day as you apologized to a man who had bumped into you on purpose. Mox had almost beat the shit out of that dude, but you had calmed him down. You always did. 

“Well, come on, then. Last touches and then you’re getting married.” 

Oh, my god. You were about to get married. You heart started pounding rapidly in your chest. Married. Forever, to this dude. This dude who… Who was nothing. He wasn’t anyone important, not to you. Not like Mox was. 

You closed your eyes, trying to bring yourself out of that thought. How fucking awful was it to be thinking of a man you had stopped talking to almost over a decade ago on your wedding day? A man who didn’t even really exist anymore. Jon Moxley had become Dean Ambrose. He was happy now. He was where you had always hoped he would be. He was happy, and he didn’t need you to do it, and you were about to get married, you didn’t need him. 

Your bridesmaids, totally oblivious to your internal struggle, continued chatting between themselves as they took your closed eyes as an opportunity to touch up your eye shadow. You couldn’t even find yourself to listen to what your soon-to-be sisters in law were saying. Sure, you thought a lot about Moxley, but not nearly this much, and not during important milestones in your relationship. Okay, that was a lie - but the memory of a man who didn’t love you never invaded you _this_ much. 

It was still Jon that you were thinking of as you walked down the aisle. You didn’t even see your almost-husband’s face. You wondered how Jon would like right now, in a suit that probably didn’t fit him right, because he never did get the hang of buying clothes for himself. You wondered if he’d slick that wild hair back. You’d seen Dean Ambrose slick his hair back a few times - would he have done that for your wedding day? 

_Oh._

No, he wouldn’t have. 

And you could tell because he was there, in the middle of the ‘bride’s side’, sitting alone. His hair was untamed, and he was wearing a white shirt and a leather jacket, and jeans. The only thing that changed about him physically was that he had grown into himself a bit more - his muscles were evident, his facial hair actually looked good on him instead of making him look like a creepy sixteen year old. He looked comfortable in his own skin, now. And his eyes… As sad as they looked, they still had that glimmer of mischief in them. The promise of an adventure, of a night where you went to bed with a smile on your face. 

“Heya, doll.” Jon stage whispered, his voice more gravely than you remembered, but god, you fell in love all over again. 

You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped walking down the aisle until the guests started murmuring to each other. You could barely even hear that, though. All you could hear was Jon’s voice, and your own heart beating loudly in your ears. 

You didn’t love your fiance. You never did. He wasn’t Jon. He wasn’t your Jon Moxley. 

“This is the part where you walk down the aisle, kiddo. Gotta let your husband to be take off that god awful veil. I know you know that.” Jon winked, like the fucker knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. And, well, you were sure he did. He always was smarter than the world gave him credit for. 

“I don’t want to.” You said quietly, but apparently not quietly enough, because those murmurs turned into full on, loud ass talking that you would be hard-pressed to ignore. 

“Thought you always wanted to get married.” He didn’t look upset. Didn’t look hurt. Just smug. 

“Not like this. Not to him.” You said quickly, hoping and also not hoping that Jon caught what you were trying to say there - the unspoken _but I would marry_ _**you.**_

The talking turned into yells, but you still were able to hear your fiance say your name like you had just personally sunk a knife into his chest. Which, to be fair to him - that was probably what it felt like. But you needed to do this. Even if Jon didn’t want you, you couldn’t go through with this marriage in good conscious. 

“So don’t.” Mox (you wondered absently if he preferred Dean over his old name) shrugged, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

And, yeah. It was. You didn’t want to get married, so you wouldn’t get married. You took in a deep breath, your body shaking a bit with the nerves. You didn’t want to do this, but you didn’t know what to do. The last few years of your life had been so closely intertwined with the man who was currently crying at the end of the aisle. How were you even supposed to go on after this? How did - 

“You’re overthinking things, doll.” Moxley said carefully, standing up and taking the veil out of your intricately styled hair, his lips twisting up into a sweet smile, those dimples he hated so much playing at the corner of his lips. “There. Much better.” 

“Come with me?” The pathetic question was spilling past your lips clumsily before you even realized that you were asking it. 

Jon looked serious now, but still his eyes were gentle and looked like trouble you couldn’t wait to help cause. “Shoulda never left.” 

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” You breathed, bringing that smile back to his lips. He was so beautiful when he smiled. You had always thought so. 

“Okay.” Mox’s hand slipped into your own, warm, calloused, and _comfortable._ This was home, wherever you could be with him. You were so stupid to think otherwise. 

“I love you.” You didn’t care about the pandemonium all around you. You didn’t care that you were telling a man in jeans that you hadn’t seen in years that you were in love with him while in your wedding dress, just feet away from the biggest mistake you could ever made. You cared about what he thought, and that’s all you cared about. 

“I love you.” He repeated. It was funny. You had always dreamed about telling him that, and hearing him say it back. This was never once in any of your wildest dreams. But, you supposed, he wouldn’t be Jon if he wasn’t unpredictable. That was just the nature of him, and of the relationship you had always had with him. That was one of _many_ reasons you were in love with him. 

“Can we go now?” You asked, tugging on Jon’s hand and finally looking around with a cringe at the pissed off and shocked patrons and wedding party, and at your ex-fiance, who was full on sobbing on his knees.

“Yeah, doll. We can go now.” His fingers tugged off your engagement ring, setting it down on the chair he was previously sitting at. Now, if that wasn’t some sort of metaphor… Jesus. He grinned as he faced the crowd, and you couldn’t help but follow shortly thereafter with a shiteating grin of your own. “Ladies and gentleman! My name’s Jon Moxley, or sometimes Mox, or sometimes Dean, and if this beautiful lady is gonna be marryin’ anyone, it’s gonna be me. So. We’re gonna go. Sorry about the wedding expenses. Go ahead and email Seth Rollins about getting a reimbursement.”

You yelped as he lifted you up and carried you, bridal style, and walked right the fuck back down the aisle, giggling and wrapping your arm around the back of his neck. 

“I’m gonna make you happy. I’ve got a lot of shit to make up for.” Jon said casually, looking down at you as if there wasn’t a full on fucking riot behind you two. 

“You’re heading down the right track.” You laughed, unable to stop yourself from pressing your lips to his for the first ever time. 

And, after decades and _many_ mistakes, the two of you had _finally_ reached your happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Give me a follow on tumblr over at dirrrtydeeds, and send me a request if you'd like! I'd love to hear from you guys!


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